I am absolutely elated to announce that I won OverlandExpo's national photo contest with my "Epic Winch Pull" photograph. As the grand prize, Dani and I will be bringing the Jeep down to OverlandExpo East next fall just south of Asheville, North Carolina. Not only will this be an amazing opportunity to meet with other overland enthusiasts from across the country and check out their vehicles, but we'll also get to attend a myriad of classes for navigation, mechanical maintenance, technical driving, and more. I'm very excited to be able to display the Trailhawk during the weekend-long event, highlighting the modifications & installations I've done to it over the last year, and the continued advancements that will happen in the coming months.

I just wanted to take a second to thank each and every one of you who took the time to vote for my image. It seems that 2018 is already flying by but I promise there are big plans for travel, hiking, photos, and even more narratives of adventure. Can't wait to see where the rest of the year takes us, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

So I found out today that one of my photos (below) was voted into the Overland Expo Photo Contest, and last night was chosen by judges as one of the top 8 images. Overland Expo is the host of two gigantic events - one on each coast- where overlanders get together to show off their vehicles, check out new equipment, meet other people with the same passions, and share stories of adventure. I was hoping you all might take a chance to vote for the photo, potentially allowing me to go to the 2018 Expo! By their rules you can vote once per day, per IP address.

While winter wheeling with a friend in New Hampshire’s White Mountains my Jeep broke through thick ice of a frozen-over river, requiring recovery from my buddy’s JKU. I took a moment to photograph him pulling the FlatLink at the end of his winch line towards the Grand Cherokee to pull me back safely. The photo was handheld, taken at ISO400, f/2.8, 1/50" exposure.

I promised a friend I’d get this summer’s trip write-up finished by the end of the year… This fall proved to be exceptionally busy and life certainly hasn’t slowed down in the last few weeks. As such, I sit here in very cold Boston, Massachusetts (it's -12°F with windchill) watching Rockin’ New Years Eve on ABC and writing the finale blog post to a summer of adventure… so here we go, the storyline of the last 530 miles of the journey.

I slept soundly in Puxatawney, waking with the sun and quickly packing away the gear inside the Jeep. I snapped a quick photo of the “campsite” and was on my way again, navigating the sleepy back roads before eventually arriving back on I-80 eastbound. My dreams of cruising along through Pennsylvania were quickly shattered as traffic backed up for miles due to seemingly endless construction. Knowing that my days were numbered as a roadway traveler, I rolled the windows down and turned up the music, enjoying the rolling green hills around me as I worked my way towards Poughkeepsie, NY. My plan was to complete the 300 mile route to visit my aunts and grandparents, spend the night, then head on back to home in Boston.

Shortly after 10h00 the traffic cleared up, and within an hour I saw my first Massachusetts license plate. With cruise control set to 70 I passed by corn fields and under party cloudy skies, eventually turning onto I-84 around Scranton, PA and seeing the “Welcome to New York” sign shortly thereafter. I pulled into Poughkeepsie in the mid-afternoon and spent an enjoyable afternoon relaxing with family and showing them the photos of the trip I’d so far had the ability to catalogue and touch up. We ate an early dinner at one of my grandparents most frequented local restaurants, and I fell asleep not long after the sun went down.

My Puxatawney Campsite

Headed Back to New England

​The next morning came quickly, and I stared out the window at an overcast world while a gentle rain fell on the Hudson Valley. I ate a quick breakfast and talked about plans for future exploration endeavors with my grandfather – a man who always saves New York Times obituaries of great adventurers for me to read. Somewhat anxious to get home, I loaded what little gear I had brought inside and hugged my grandparents before hitting the road around 11. As I headed towards the Taconic State Parkway the rain steadily increased in volume, eventually becoming a downpour by the time I got to I-90. The three and a half hour drive went by without a hitch, and crossing back under the Boston skyline put a huge smile on my face and a sense of sadness in my heart. Crossing over the Zakim and Tobin bridges and getting off the highway, I pulled into my driveway and sat in the driver’s seat for a while without moving, a light rain still falling on the Jeep's roof.​

Welcome Back to I-90

Finally Home

It had been 24 days since leaving this same place, and our Trans-Canada Overland Expedition, as I've come to call it, had covered 6,793.3 miles across 5 Canadian provinces and 11 U.S. states. We averaged 23 miles per gallon over the distance, consuming just under 300 gallons of gasoline, 176 of which were purchased as Canadian liters. We carried a reasonably sized and exceptionally reliable array of vehicular gear, mechanical equipment, radio/comms/navigation systems, camping gear, and photography equipment, the majority of which was used almost daily. With the sole exception of what was now a sizable crack in my windshield from the dump truck in North Dakota, we had traveled nearly 7,000 miles without an accident or police interaction of any kind. We saw two of the most beautiful national parks I’ve ever laid my eyes on, stood and camped under vast starry skies, and soaked up some of the most indescribably brilliant colors beaming up from lakes so spectacular I’ll never be able to adequately describe them to you. The trip was a complete success, and one that will forever serve as a basis for a passion in long-distance overlanding and even weekend backcountry exploration on wheels.

Thank you all for following along and sending in your thoughts, comments, and compliments; above all though, a special thanks to each of you for your endless support of and enthusiasm towards adventure.

It’s 23h28 as I finish typing this... meaning I’ll be able to publish the blog before midnight on the last day of 2017, as promised. Happy New Year to all, and best wishes for your year ahead... I'm sure we’ll talk soon :)

​I slept like I was dead on a full stomach of delicious food. It was easy to see that the past few days of traversing the U.S. was taking a slight toll on my body, and I was somewhat looking forward to getting home and relaxing for a while. I took a hot shower and joined Marcus and Molly in the kitchen for breakfast, enjoying a half hour of a family lifestyle, something I’ve long since been absent from in my own life, as their son Andrew got ready to take his driver’s permit test that morning. I was out the door by 08h00 and on the road just in time to be caught up in Chicago’s morning traffic. It was Wednesday August 16th, and I had 1,100 miles to go until I was back in Boston. For the first time since leaving Calgary, I had no real plan as to where I needed to be at the end of the day. I only knew I wanted to be within cruising distance of Poughkeepsie, NY for the next day, where I was hoping to visit with my aunts and grandparents.

Saying Goodbye to Marcus

Entering State #6

​ Despite the traffic I crossed into Indiana within an hour, thereby entering my 6th state since the border crossing in Wild Horse in Montana. The highway eventually opened up again and I set the cruise control for 75, happily moving along with the music up and listening to occasional chatter on the CB and HAM radios in the cab of the Jeep. By the late morning I was into Ohio, the sun shining overhead and casting its light down on the vast fields that skirted both sides of the highway. Shortly after noon I stopped for a quick lunch at a highway rest-stop and found myself staring at a map of notable locations in Ohio; there hadn’t been much by way of beautiful photography opportunities in the past few days and I was itching to see something aside the paved roads and reflective paint lines that sprawled out endlessly ahead of me. As far as accessibility was concerned my options seemed few; I could go an hour out of my way to photograph a lighthouse on the shore of Lake Erie, arriving far too early for any kind of sunset opportunity, or I could move forward an hour or so to the small town of Milan where I could visit the childhood home of one Mr. Thomas Alva Edison. The latter option quickly became the obvious choice.

Hopping off the highway and following signs for the village of Milan, I wandered down quiet streets with beautifully homes on either side until I arrived at a small brick home on a dead-end road. I hopped out of the Jeep and entered through a door labeled “Office” as a half dozen other people walked out. Paying the reasonable $7 entry fee for the tour, I joined the family I had just seen next door in the brick home and began what ended up being an absolutely fantastic tour of the Birthplace of Edison. Being in the technical industry where Edison and Tesla are often argued against each other, I know a fair bit about Thomas’ inventions and mishaps in the invention process, so naturally as the tour guide quizzed the group I would answer as best I knew. By the end of the tour she simply referred to me as “Boston” and seemed to expect I’d have the answer to every question she inquired. At the end of the tour as the family made their way back to the car, I spoke with the tour guide a bit more as she asked what brought me by Milan. Her husband is a backcountry hiker and son was attending school in Vermont, so we spoke at length about the Appalachian Trail and Long Trail hikes. Before leaving I asked about her opinion regarding places to stop for the night and she pointed me towards Ohio’s Cuyahoga Valley National Park, located another hour east on I-80. I plotted the destination in the iPad’s navigation software and eased my way back out of town as quietly as I had come.

Thomas Edison's Birthplace - Milan, OH

Edison's Childhood Bedroom

Family Living Room

A National Historic Landmark

About to roll 10,000 mi

​ Somewhere between Milan and the National Park, on the phone with Dani as she finished work, I looked down at the odometer to witness the Jeep (now 8 months old) roll from 9,999 miles over to 10,000. Being the first brand new car I’ve ever purchased, I’ve never had an odometer be that low to witness this moment, which I found to be very exciting.. quite the long trip this had been! As the sun began sinking in the sky I pulled off towards Cuyahoga Valley and found myself a nice open field in the park to have dinner at. I laid out my laptop and the Coleman stove on a picnic bench and began cooking a tuna and pasta meal and blogging simultaneously as families and their dogs wandered around the park grounds. As soon as my meal was completed I washed my dishes and packed up my gear, returning to the Jeep and doing some research as to any known “wild-camp” sites I could reach on the western side of Pennsylvania before calling it a night. Using a little creativity with Google’s Earth View mode, I found a little dirt clearing on the side of a forest access road on the outskirts of of Punxsutawney, PA where I’d aim for.

The ride would take another 3 hours, the majority of which I’d spend in the pitch black on an otherwise empty highway with the 30” LED bar blazing the path ahead of me with light. My music was loud and the moon roof open allowing the warm summer night’s air into the cabin. Shortly before 23h00 I pulled off the interstate and found my way along the breadcrumb trail of the GPS to the wild-camp site I had selected. I backed the Jeep up off the dirt roadway and turned on the reverse lights to illuminate the area as I set up my camp for the night. The stars shone brilliantly overhead, leading me to snap a few images with my camera before climbing into the Jeep and laying down for the night, hearing the crickets chirp outside through the windows I had vented for air circulation. In a million years I’d never have guessed I’d be camping in Punxsutawney Phil’s hometown, but here I was… another day further east, closer to home, and absolutely exhausted.

​I woke up early to have breakfast with Greg and Carol before heading off on my next leg, a 450 mile haul to the Chicago suburbs where I’d spend the night with my buddy Marcus and his family. The ride was to be relatively straightforward, taking I-94 and I-90 for 6 and a half hours before arriving in Lemont, IL. Quickly packing up the Jeep after a toasted bagel with an assortment of cream cheese options, I made use of being in Minneapolis and stopped by my friend Emma’s house (Greg’s daughter) to meet her three young boys. Hanging out for half an hour or so, I hopped back in the Grand Cherokee and headed towards the highway. The weather was absolutely perfect, in the mid-60s with the sun shining and wispy clouds in the air. I rolled the windows down and rolled my eyes as I eased onto the brakes and made my way into the stop-and-go traffic of Minneapolis’ morning commuter traffic.

With Emma & Her Boys

Passing MSP's Delta Hangar

With the promise of Marcus’ famous homemade BBQ waiting for me in Lemont, I knew my day was to destined to have minimal distractions en route. I had but one instruction: to stop in Osseo, Wisconsin, at the famous Norske Nook Bakery to pick up pies. Two hours after my departure I pulled off the highway and began following the GPS down the quiet back roads of Osseo. Easily finding parking alongside the bakery, I wandered inside to discovery a little breakfast restaurant with a wide array of pies lining the food display cases. I had been given specific instruction from Marcus to get a banana cream pie for him and strawberry-rhubarb for his wife Molly… I then of course needed a slice of raspberry pie for myself. The challenge with the pies was keeping them from baking in the sun over the course of the remaining hours of my drive. Of course I had the fridge in the back, but fitting the gigantic pies required me emptying out everything else from inside and then rearranging it all. Not wanting to let Marcus down with his one simple wish for pie, I sat on the edge of the road in this tiny little town and unloaded every piece of produce from the fridge onto the sidewalk and wiggled the pies in (with less than a millimeter to spare on each side) and piled everything else that would fit back in on top and discarding food I knew I wouldn’t be consuming before getting home.

I drove slowly back out of town, cruising down wide roads with small houses and manicured front lawns before merging back onto the highway and back into the figurative slipstream of interstate travel. Everything was going flawlessly until I reached for my single slice of pie and realized I didn’t have a utensil to eat it with. Fear not, I flipped on my hazard and strobe lights and pulled over to the side of the road to fish one out of our cooking gear in the back of the Jeep. I was laughing as 18-wheelers were moving over into different lanes to give me space in the brake-down lane as they whizzed by… if only they could have known I was simply looking for a fork to eat my pie with.

Downtown Osseo & The Norske Nook

The World's Most Delicious Pie

I hit the traffic starting about 40 minutes outside of Chicago, making a brief pit-stop to fill up the Grand Cherokee’s tank and getting back on the road. I’d been getting text messages all afternoon of the food Marcus was preparing, and I was eager to get there. I crossed the Illinois state line just after 15h30, and arrived at his place about an hour later. We spent the night sitting around the table on his back porch with neighbors, family, and a few friends from work who were in town doing production for an event in the city. The vast array of food was incredible and I did my best to pace myself to ensure I consumed as much as I could. We finished the night with the Norske Nook pies I had carried 350 miles for dessert, and I retired to bed on a massively full stomach. It had been a relatively short day in comparison to the long hauls the two days prior, and I rested well knowing that the trip was slowly nearing its end.

​There’s an exciting and simultaneously disorienting feeling when waking up in the back of an SUV in the middle of a massive and otherwise empty field in the Midwest. I packed up my camping gear into the appropriate storage locations and hit the road as the sun crested the hilly horizon, following along Route 200 for about ten miles to meet up with I-94, the road I’d ultimately be spending most of my day on. I stopped at a huge gas station to fill the tank, happily paying $2.23 a gallon at my first re-fuel in the United States in three week’s time, and grabbed a quick breakfast sandwich before hitting the road again. My goal for the day was to reach Minneapolis by dinner time, where I’d be spending the night with a long time family friend Greg and his fiancée. ​

Sleeping Arrangements

A Long Way To Go

State Line #2

Merging eastbound onto I-94, I was happy to see that the highway was relatively empty, leaving me to move along without interruption from the GPS for the next 547 miles; I was relaxed and simply in the mood to cruise. The road started fluctuating in elevation as I moved towards, and eventually into, North Dakota. I stopped for a bit at a scenic vista of the Little Missouri National Grasslands, listening to music with the windows down and taking a few photographs as other drivers stopped to do the same. Getting back onto I-94 I was almost immediately greeted with stones being thrown towards the Jeep by two large trailers full of construction gravel. Though I didn’t notice it at the time, one of the harshest impacts ended up creating a large crack in the lower passenger side of my windshield which would end up growing to nearly 18” long by the time I reached Boston a few days later. I sped by the trucks as quickly as possible, passing (and giggling) at the sign for Exit 7 to “Home On The Range, North Dakota”, swearing to myself I wouldn’t stop until I was an hour or two away and well out of the trucks proximity with hopes of never seeing them again. ​

​ Lunch was later in the day, set up on the side of a long dirt road that paralleled miles and miles of sunflower fields. I made up a sandwich with meats and cheese we had left in the Grand Cherokee’s Dometic refrigerator and soaked in the sunshine before moving on, referencing the clock and the iPad’s GPS to see that I was doing well on time and mileage. I refueled again in the mid-afternoon and texted Greg to let him know when I’d be arriving in Minneapolis for dinner. Pulling into the city limits around 18h30, I stared out over a semi-familiar skyline and noticed an incredibly dirty hood in my peripheral vision. As I’m not the kind of traveler who would ever show up to a friends house with a vehicle covered in thousands upon thousands of miles of adventure and road dust, I quickly referenced the iPad and changed my routing to the nearest touch-less wash. After a thorough rinsing I covered the remaining distance to Greg and Carol’s home in Minnetonka, MN. We ate a delicious home cooked meal and stayed up late talking about travel and happenings in all of our lives.

Shortly before 23h00 I took a quick shower and climbed into their very comfy guest bed, exhausted after the 650-mile solo journey from a vacant field in Big Sky Country to the metropolitan suburbs of Minneapolis. Mile by mile, hour by hour, this adventure was coming closer to an end.​

Our morning started slowly, meandering around the apartment continuing to pack the last of our clean laundry as I continued to make repeated trips to the elevator and down to the basement garage to access the Grand Cherokee. The drive to the airport, located across the city, would take around half an hour. With it technically being an international flight, we left about three hours before her departure to make sure there was enough time for security. Our time in the car was rather quiet as we were each off in our own worlds thinking about the miles and adventures behind us. We had officially traveled over 4,500 miles together since leaving Boston, crossing through five of the ten Canadian provinces, and visiting two of the most incredible national parks imaginable over the last three weeks. Our new REI Quarterdome 2 tent served us well, and the two-person Exped SynMat Duo air mattress was worth every single penny. Cumulatively we’d taken a few thousand photos, and would have these memories to look back on for the rest of our lives. Arriving at Calgary International, we parked the Jeep in the airport’s short-term parking garage and carried her luggage inside, finding the American check-in desk and getting her boarding passes set for her quick layover in Dallas.

I walked back out to the Jeep and sat in the driver’s seat in relative silence, unsure what to do with the situation. It was incredibly strange to be alone, to look at an empty passenger seat while my peripheral vision simultaneously recognized the missing luggage in the back seat. It took a little while for the realization that I now had nearly 3,000 miles to travel alone before reaching Boston. After a song or two had played on the radio I reached forward and started the engine, realizing that simply sitting there in the airport parking garage wasn’t getting me any closer to home. About a week prior I had begun thinking about my route home, things I’d like to see, and people I’d want to/be able to visit. I sent a few text messages and looked through possible map routes and ultimately decided I’d head back into the United States instead of getting back on the Trans-Canada Highway for days and traipsing back across the same Canadian provinces we had already come across. I’d follow Alberta Hwy 1 (technically the Trans-Canada) 200 miles from Calgary International to just east of Medicine Hat, AB, turning south on Highway 41 towards the Canadian/US border.​

Suddenly Empty Navigator Seat

Highway One

​The road was boring beyond description; it was bland, flat, neutral toned, indescribably monotonous and relatively empty of other vehicles. I stopped for fuel just a few miles before turning south, filling up the Jeep’s 24-gallon tank out of concern for my next time I’d be able to refuel. If the past few hours had been driving through “populated” areas, I was afraid of what the next few hours – and potentially the rest of the night – would bring… better to fill up while the opportunity presented itself. Turning onto 41 showed me exactly what I imagined, a two lane road stretching across vast fields, a wasteland of sorts, for hours on end. I stopped in a tiny town called Elkwater to mail Dani a postcard from the last Canadian town of the trip and buy a bottle of water. From there it was another hour south to Wild Horse, AB, the official site of the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol crossing. When I tell you it was literally the first thing (from the obvious options of a house, car, fence, person, etc.) I had seen since Elkwood, I’m not exaggerating. Two border patrol agents came out to greet me and ask a few questions about my entry point and time in the country. They were surprised to hear I’d been in Canada for almost a month, having crossed the border some 2,700 miles east. I had nothing to declare and they quickly waved me on. A hundred feet and two high security fences later I found myself in Montana, the 41st state in the Union. Just like that and without much ceremony, I was back in America.I stopped to take a photo of the state line sign, and spent no more than thirty seconds changing the speedometer of the Jeep’s digital display back to mph from km/h. With the same two lane road and endless prairies on either side of me I continued on for over an hour until I reached the small town of Havre, MT, seeing only two houses and a tiny and long since forgotten church in that time. Turning off of Highway 41 and onto Montana Route 2 I did my best to keep an eye on the road while simultaneously trying to observe the scenery around me. The town was old and rundown, home to a major train yard, the Boxcars Casino, a few miscellaneous bars, and not much else. I turned around at one point immediately after passing Hi-Line Lanes, an abandoned bowling alley, the photographer in me filled with an immense desire to capture the scene. I drove on Route 2 towards Montana’s Big Sky Scenic Byway as the sun began setting behind me, the blue tones of dusk washing over the vast plains. The beams of my headlights and the 30” Black Oak LED bar on the roof shone out brilliantly in front of me and I noticed a mile-long train racing across the valley to the south of me. With music playing loudly and the sun roof open wide to let the fresh air flow through, I did my best to enjoy the solitude that the new chapter of this adventure presented me with.

Headed Down 41

Border Crossing - Wild Horse

Back On U.S. Soil

My goal for the day was to cover over half of the distance from Calgary to Minneapolis, an impressive 1,300 mile trek. With the late start to the day, this would require me driving till well after midnight. As the pitch black of night blanketed the sky and earth I began seeing the most brilliant stars shining back at me from the heavens above. Quickly researching the moon-rise time, I pulled off the road and set up my camera and tripod to capture one of the most incredibly vibrant Milky Way displays I’ve ever seen. It was quite eerie to be standing in a field an hour from the nearest established town and be staring up at the sprawling galaxy and constellations above. My fish-eye wide-angle lens allowed for some great images, one of which I’ll share below. With miles to go, I packed up my gear after twenty or so minutes and carried on to the east. Some time after midnight Dani called to let me know she had made it home safely, eager to know where I was in the world.At 02h00 I pulled the Jeep off the road, crossing a small ditch and coming to a stop on the edge of a wide open field. Without a single structure in sight I deemed it a safe place to spend the night and began rearranging the gear inside the Jeep. Moving one of our Pelican cases to the ground outside, I inflated my single person Therm-a-Rest sleeping pad. I had traveled just under 700 miles since leaving Calgary, and fell fast asleep stretched out across the back of the Grand Cherokee, knowing all too well just how quickly the sun would rise again.

Images From Big Sky Country

My fall has been crazy with travel, so you'll have to forgive the delay in posting here. I promise I'll wrap this adventure up before the end of the year.

If you will, travel through time with me back to mid-August...

Our itinerary had us spending two nights in Calgary, with our actual tourist day slated for that Saturday. We woke up with the sun, partially due to habit of the past weeks of living in a tent, but more likely due to the floor to ceiling glass windows that our Airbnb was outfitted with flooding the room with light. While Dani showered I got our massive pile of laundry together, breaking it up into separate loads to fit inside the tiny washer and dryer we had in the unit. Once the first load was in and we looked presentable to the world, we wandered out the door and into the local urban neighborhood that surrounded the apartment building. Our first priority was to get caffeine in a cup for my girlfriend, at which point she became much more enthusiastic about the day. We found a really unique corner shop called Analog Coffee, a small establishment with white walls lined with vinyl records on shelves, mismatched photos, and a lively atmosphere created by the long lines of a younger crowd.​

Analog Coffee Shop

The Central Memorial Garden

Once coffee was in hand, Dani and I began the search for a late breakfast/early lunch. As it turns out, Calgary is not the most gluten-aware city, and we struggled to find a place that could tailor to our dietary needs… making the most of it, we turned our search into a bit of an adventure, wandering the streets going restaurant to restaurant looking for a place to eat. I spoke to my parents on the phone as Dani eventually turned to Google searches, and updated them on our whereabouts and upcoming plans. By the time I got off the phone we had found a destination for lunch and began our walk a few blocks to get there. Passing through Calgary’s Central Memorial Garden, we enjoyed the symmetry and beauty of the fountains, pathways, and flowerbeds. On the opposite side of the small park I noticed a restaurant called The Beltliner, a diner-style venue with bright red lettering that looked like a modern take on a decades past establishment. We checked out the menu, delighted to find a gluten free bun for sandwiches, and quickly decided to scrap our initial plans and eat at The Beltliner instead. With the clock moving closer to noon we thought it appropriate to enjoy a local hard cider called Broken Ladder and perused the menu, ultimately deciding on a large bowl of tomato soup and each our own entrée, hers a sandwich of some sort while I went with chicken and waffles.​

Early on in the trip we stumbled across the tidbit of information that Dani had never read (or been read) Goodnight Moon, and ironically enough the restaurant had a copy for kids to read while waiting for their meals. As we sipped our ciders and ate the incredibly delicious soup I read her the book aloud, showing the illustrations in a form that any kindergarten teacher would be proud of. After lunch we strolled back ten blocks or so to our apartment, soaking up the sunlight and truly just enjoying our last day together. More laundry was done throughout the afternoon as I took occasional trips down to the Jeep to re-pack our gear in a more solo-friendly way for the long (2,700+ mile) drive home. Our next morning wouldn’t be an early start, but likely a hectic one as we made our way to YYC - Calgary International Airport - for her 13h00 departure back to Orlando. Early in the evening a little more time spent on Google found us an entirely gluten friendly restaurant a few minutes walk from the apartment where we got our meals as take out, returning to the couch and concluding our evening with a screening of Disney/Pixar’s UP!, a movie she had never seen. It was exceptionally nice to relax and watch the animated film as we ate dinner and the sun disappeared over the horizon outside, the night moving in and darkness settling over the city around us.

The idea that the trip was coming even closer to its end was weighing on my heart and spirits, but I fell asleep that night remembering the past three weeks, smiling at the thought of how lucky we were, all the things we had done, and all that we had seen.

The beauty of the stars glistening in the sky overhead was slightly interrupted throughout the night by trucks passing on the nearby highway. We woke with the sun, the air cooler and more crisp than on other mornings, and I began packing up camp immediately as Dani prepared us a quick breakfast. We had one mission: make it to the Lake Louise parking lot before the masses of other visitors arrived; the focus of our day was entirely on a Pinterest-worthy “Tea Hut Hike”. Due to my incredible campsite finding skills the drive to Louise took no more than five minutes, and we arrived early enough to secure a parking lot just a few cars from the trailhead entrance. We packed my 66L Cold Cold World bag with the appropriate gear we’d need for a day hike, and though the bag itself probably appeared to be overkill to anyone walking by us, it served us well. I included a light windbreaker for myself, my camera bag with a few lenses, an extra liter of water for us to share when our primary ones ran dry, and the usual bag of minor medical supplies and a headlamp just in case. The snowshoe straps on the exterior of the bag worked phenomenally as a place to fasten my aluminum tripod to, and there was plenty of space left in the backpack to fill with Dani’s extra layers as the day got warmer. We made a final restroom stop in the gorgeous Lake Louise Fairmont hotel and made our way to the trailhead alongside the lake’s shore as hundreds of people gathered to take photos of the water as we had a few days prior.

Lake Louise Wild Campsite

Dressed For A Different Season!

Carved Out Switchbacks

The Lake Agnes Tea House hike is a notable attraction for people of all ages and abilities visiting the Lake Louise area. Climbing from the water’s edge up into the mountains the trail covers 3.4km each way and gains just over 1,100-feet of elevation as it goes along. The trail is relatively well manicured throughout the hike, and is four people wide for the most part. Temperatures were in the high 60s as we started our trek and we looked funny standing next to each other, me in a short sleeved polyester New Balance top and shorts, Dani in a hooded down jacket, fleece insulating layer, and long sleeve polyester top with yoga pants. One of the exciting things for me on this day was the opportunity to test out a new pair of active-wear compression shorts called Eletrunks (more on that later). I took the lead as we passed the trailhead sign and carried on happily at my usual 3 mph pace for a few hundred feet before realizing that it wasn’t a pace we would be able to happily maintain. I urged Dani to hike in front of me so that I could match her pace, and we carried on that way for the next two hours.The trail wove its way through a pine tree forest, carving switchbacks into the side of the mountain as we climbed to the Lake Agnes Tea Hut. It was awesome to see all the people out hiking, as there was absolutely no blatantly noticeable demographic of the people around us. For the most part the hikers were Asian, and we very rarely heard English spoken as we moved along, passing most people and occasionally being passed by others. Some people on the trail wore what I would consider normal hiking clothes, polyester or wool, while others wore anything from jeans to khakis to long dresses, t-shirts, pea-coats, denim jackets (with glittery bedazzles), any anything in between. Footwear ranged from trail runners to over-the-ankle leather hiking boots, flip-flops to heels, and one person trekking barefoot. There were a handful of backpacks and a few Coach/Michael Kors bags, with the majority of people simply carrying a bottle of water in their hands. I’m sure my backpack looked like overkill to many.As we climbed higher the trees occasionally gave way for unobstructed views to the saturated water of Lake Louise below us and the snow-capped peaks on the ridges opposite us. We stopped for a quick snack, water, and rest break just over halfway up and sat on a fallen tree that was well positioned for sitting on. From there the trail became more strewn with rocks bulging out of the dirt as the sun reached the perfect height to be baking down on our backs. At one point we passed a corral of horses tied up and being groomed by a mountain guide, evidence of the tour company that brings people up to the tea hut on horseback for the small fee of $180 or so. We learned (thanks to an inquisitive guy in front of us) that this was the highest point the horses get to, leaving the paying client to hike the last quarter mile to the tea hut itself. A bit further up the trail we made a sharp hairpin turn by a waterfall, run-off from Lake Agnes, then began climbing a steep set of grated steel stairs that brought us up alongside the side foundation of the tea hut itself. The large wooden building sits nicely up on the edge of Lake Agnes, only a dozen feet from the steep rock cliff that the stairs parallel, and the large patio was buzzing with noise from the immeasurable number of hikers who were waiting to order tea or snacks. With an unknown wait time to actually sit on the porch, we got a cup of tea and a cookie from the “To-Go” line and went to sit on a rock by the edge of the lake and soak up the sun and scenery of this gorgeous summer day.

Mt. Niblock

Lake Agnes Tea Hut

Exploring Rock Fields

Lake Agnes

After finishing our tea and snack we cautiously stepped out onto the expansive rocky shore of the eastern side of the lake, cooling off in the shadows of the mountain peaks above us. Taking some goofy photos with my camera, the snow on the other side of the emerald green lake caught Dani’s attention, and we changed our itinerary to include a venture to the snow pack on the southern edge of Lake Agnes. It was fun to explore the mountain, making our way up a rocky avalanche chute, seeing different kinds of vegetation and wildlife from anywhere else in the park. The terrain was toying with my mind as I began daydreaming about a thru-hike of the Pacific Crest or Continental Divide Trails. Around high noon we turned back towards the tea hut and waiting in the excruciatingly long line for their privy-style restrooms before beginning our descent of the mountain. Dani led the way again, enjoying the ease of the down-hill slope and passing almost everyone in front of us as we went along. I was genuinely happy to see so many people out in the mountains for the day, and made repeated comments to Dani about how great it was to see people challenging themselves - I say this kindly, many people appeared to be challenging themselves with the hike – and experiencing the national park in more fulfilling way than tourism from a car window could ever provide. We arrived back at the picturesque shore of Lake Louise at 13h00 having hiked just under 7 miles to, from, and around Lake Agnes.Gentlemen readers: revisiting the mentioning of Eletrunks from earlier in the post, I wanted to take a second to talk about them in more detail. A week before the start of our trip I was contacted by one of the co-founders of this Brooklyn, NY company about testing out their compression shorts during my adventures. Over my years backpacking, cycling, running, even doing generic outdoor sweaty activities, I have tested many different manufacturer’s compression shorts. The design of Eletrunks allows for some “compartmentalization” that immensely improves discomfort and almost all potential for chaffing. Few companies, if any, address this as attentively and elegantly as Eletrunks does. I can confidently say that I’d have traded every Little Debbie snack from Georgia to Maine to have had these on the Appalachian Trail in 2014. If you’re interested in finding out more about them, head on over to EletrunksNation.com – you can even use the code “2180miles” at check-out for 10% off your order.We packed up our gear in the car and made a quick stop downtown for delicious sandwiches, putting us in great shape to depart from Banff National Park for the final time, our destination coordinates set to an Airbnb in downtown Calgary some three and a half hours away. The drive was painless but saddening, a blunt re-entry to the civilized world as pine trees and mountains gave way to endlessly flat pastures, giving way to factory smoke stacks and eventually a the skyline of Alberta’s largest city. For $150 we’d spend two nights in a modern high-rise condo downtown, complete with elevator access to our unit and underground garage parking for the Grand Cherokee. It was absolutely perfect for what we needed, and after four trips bringing up what felt like all of our stuff, we took showers and a short nap before getting ready for a night out on the town. In celebration for the nearing end of our National Parks trip I had made reservations at the Calgary 360 Tower, a 626-foot skyscraper and observatory with a rotating restaurant on the top floor. For $6 we took an Uber a mile and a half to the building’s main entrance, checking in at the front desk before beginning the fifty-someodd floor elevator ride to check out the observation deck before our table was ready.Dinner unfortunately wasn’t over-the-moon “oh my gosh” incredible, but sitting together at a window seat watching the sun set and dusk creep in as the restaurant slowly rotated over the city below us was an incredible way to spend the evening. We indulged on four separate courses before paying the tab and taking an Uber back to the condo just after 22h00. It had been a long day with an incredibly diverse range of activities and geographically induced surroundings. While I had hoped to do a bit more hiking between both national parks, we had spent a self-supported night at a remote campsite in Jasper and had followed it up, at Dani’s request, with a 7 mile hike to the glacial snow and tea hut above Lake Louise in Banff. Our plan for the next day was to have a relaxing exploration of Calgary; it was to be our last day together as my co-pilot was flying out of YYC (Calgary International Airport) to get back to work in Florida. Falling asleep wasn’t set up to be easy, the condo warm from the all day sunlight shining in and a lack of air conditioning in the unit, but my eyes closed quickly, exhausted by all that we had accomplished in one days worth of adventure.

Waking to the sunlight casting shadows of trees across the rainfly of our tent, I checked my watch to verify both the time and date. As I had suspected it was our last morning in Banff, and we had just spent our final night at Tunnel Mountain. After relaxing for a few minutes longer, we then ran through the checklist of breaking down the tent and packing our gear away for good, having spent five nights in a row at the Banff campground and living the luxurious life of leaving the tent pitched for days on end. Knowing that we had no concrete sleeping arrangements for the night we each took a quick shower before leaving the tent site and dropping our vehicle parking pass in a drop box as some informal kind of checking-out.

First up on our social calendar for the day was visiting the Cave and Basin National Historic Site, a site of natural thermal springs around which Banff, Canada’s first national park, was founded. Though depicted as originally being utilized by Native Americans present in the area, the first recorded reference from western settlers was in 1859. Twenty years later two men working with the Canadian Pacific Railway rediscovered it, descending through the narrow skylight entrance to the cave, then building a small cabin nearby and claiming it theirs for commercialization. Other community groups pushed against the men and asked for intervention from the Canadian government, and in 1885 an order from John Macdonald, the Canadian Prime Minster, reserved ten square miles around the Cave as the Banff Hot Springs Reserve; this simultaneously gave birth to the Canadian National Parks system. The admittance to the Cave was free, and Dani and I read the abundant signage and absorbed the gigantic murals depicting the discovery of the thermal spring before venturing through a low tunnel carved into the mountainside to see the spring itself. The smell of sulfur was overwhelming to my nose, and the dark environment made for a tough photography subject, but we lingered for a while watching the sunlight dance on the sparkling turquoise water before heading back out to view the rest of the museum.

Banff Thermal Spring

Tunnel to the Cave

A walkway outside the cave led us to a massive hallway with even more historic photographs and writings detailing the creation of the National Parks in Canada. We looked at countless images while a video played across massive screens overhead, then found a quiet room in a seemingly forgotten part of the visitor center where a 1958 film played detailing the efforts of the Canadian Railroaders, the men responsible for the daily operations of the railway. I never anticipated being so intrigued by this, but we ended up watching the 30 minute narrated documentary from start to finish before departing. In the courtyard outside the museum hall was a living scene depicting how a small established village may have looked while the railroad was being constructed a hundred and thirty years prior. Canvas tents were sprawled out with period-correct beds and desks inside, and two cast members from the Cave and Basin site were re-enacting a land surveying as a crowd of us visitors watched. The entire experience at the Caves was rather fascinating, and the cherry on top was seeing a Ford Model T truck outside as we walked back to the parking lot.

We spent the early afternoon indulging in all that the city’s downtown had to offer, beginning with lunch at the Banff Avenue Brewing Company. Settled at a 2nd-floor balcony’s bar-top table overlooking the main avenue of town, we got to work writing a dozen or so post-cards to friends and family. The streets were bustling below us and we made a million comments to each other about the pristine weather and incredible view of the mountains as we ate lunch, sipping some locally brewed hard ciders. Finishing up our last bites and last written words, we paid the bill and decided to explore the shops surrounding us. I found a t-shirt that wasn’t overly touristy, a shot glass for my globally inclusive destination-based collection, and an 8 oz can of ISO/propane fuel for our backpacking camp stove. Dani window shopped nearly every establishment on the street, then grabbed my hand and brought me into the Spirit of Christmas store to find an ornament for this winter’s holiday tree. By the time we were back at the car it was 15h00, with a half-hour drive ahead of us to the town of Canmore where we’d begin our afternoon traveling an off-pavement route I had read about on a fellow overland blog, Desk to Glory.

My Canadian Railway Worker

The Model T

​The Smith-Dorrian Trail is a graded gravel route that runs 62 kilometers through Kananaskis, Alberta. While, in my opinion, it doesn’t hold a candle to the drive from Jasper to Banff, it does has the phenomenal benefit of being relatively void of any other people or vehicles. Dani and I turned off pavement we passed a large sign denting the “narrow winding mountainous road ahead”… had there been a camera in her hands at that moment, I’m sure she would have captured a look of childish glee on my face as I pressed the accelerator a little harder and the Jeep began climbing up the gravel to our first mountain pass. The road rose with the side of the slope, the small town of Canmore disappearing in the rear view mirror. As we crested the gap between two peaks our eyes found a large lake sprawled before us, a half dozen people swimming in the dark blue water. We continued on, knowing that there was limited daylight and lots of driving left before we called it a night. Our elevation continued varying as we traveled along, but stayed within a reasonable range of 6,000-feet. Pine trees towered over the road as we passed by them, and I decided it was an opportune time to stop and send the drone up for some aerial photography of the Jeep and mountains around us. Stopping alongside a massive and completely vacant lake roughly halfway through the trail I threw a telephoto lens on my camera and took some modeling/marketing photos of the Grand Cherokee to send to the dedicated and supportive off-road industry companies that have chosen me to represent their products. The scenes we were privy to are unlike anything I’ve found myself able to photograph back in New England, and I’m not one to pass up the opportunity to click away with my shutter.

Photos From The Trail

It took us a few hours to complete the Smith-Dorrien Trail as we stopped occasionally to soak in the feeling of being completely alone in the mountains. The sun began sinking in the sky as we progressed further south, dust kicking up behind us as the Jeep’s tires churned over the dirt and gravel road. Towards the end of the route we stopped on the side of the road to catch a glimpse of a mother and calf moose nestled back in the woods. I used my telephoto lens to capture a terrible photo of the young moose, but by the time I was able to grab it from my camera bag the mother had lay down on the ground. We hung around for a few minutes hoping she’d stand back up but knew we had over an hour of driving between the end of the Trail and getting back to the highway, so we pressed on. Eventually returning to pavement, we rolled through a stop sign and turned north onto Alberta Highway 40 to make our way back to the Trans-Canada route and return to Banff.

One of the most prominent things on Dani’s bucket list for our vacation was to complete one of the famed “tea-hut” hikes at Lake Louise. While we hadn’t been able to the morning we photographed sunrise there, I finagled a plan for us to be able to the next morning on our last day in the National Park. We had no definite plans for somewhere to spend the night, but I had done a bit of research on the same iOverlander webpage we used crossing the continent, and found a marked wild-camp site up by Lake Louise right off of Highway 1. The drive would take us another two hours to complete, and by the time we arrived it was already dusk. The site was a large trailhead parking lot with a clearing nestled back in the woods at the far end that overlooked the glaciers behind Lake Louise. Dani got to work cooking us a small dinner on the stove while I set the tent and got our sleeping gear ready, and by the time we climbed into bed it was nearly 22h30. Luckily for us the moon had not yet risen, and through the faint light pollution of the town below we were able to see the Milky Way stretching out overhead. I lingered outside of the tent for a few minutes with my camera and tripod to capture the scene, and was elated to find out just how well it came out when I viewed it on my computer - it is probably my favorite image from our entire trip. Below you’ll see it, our REI Quarterdome 2 tent on a cliff with the small town of Lake Louise, Mt. Victoria and her glacier in the background, and the Milky Way sparkling in the left side of the frame. It was quite the sight to fall asleep to, and I was thrilled with all we’d been able to see and do throughout the day. Our final night in the Rockies was being spent at an otherwise uninhabited campsite with the stars shining brilliantly overhead; it was the icing on the cake of what had been an amazing week and a half in the mammoth mountains of western Canada.